


Restless Sands

by SoulStealer1987



Series: Starchasers [4]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Gen, and the Tenno in question is marginally more talkative than in canon, basically a retelling of Sands of Inaros, except Baro actually comes with!, ft. Cody, he wants to be taller and likes cats, he's a simple tenno, marginally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulStealer1987/pseuds/SoulStealer1987
Summary: Spoilers for The Second Dream, Sands of Inaros."Look. I have a job for you, because you're likely the least talkative Tenno out of all of them and I don't want to deal with needless chatter."Olympus has talked to Baro Ki'Teer a grand total of once. He didn't even buy anything, because ducats? What are those? And yet here Ki'Teer is, offering him a job he's really not sure why he's taking or why Ki'Teer's offering.Maybe he'll actually get some ducats.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah, good. You’ll do.”

Olympus is surprised anyone’s addressing him. He’s even more surprised when he sees who it is. Ki’Teer, of all people. And—he shouldn’t be as amused by this as he is—in his Atlas, he _towers_ over him.

It never really occurred to him before how—well, _short_ he is. Ki’Teer’s always chosen to stand on a pedestal that gave him several inches over even the tallest of frames, when he’s in Relays. He’s never actively sought any Tenno out, to his knowledge. Or _anyone_ , for that matter.

Ki’Teer just… doesn’t like people. He’s not like Ronin, because while Ronin doesn’t like people, she actively avoids them. Ki’Teer seeks out people, if only to rub it in everyone’s oculars that he’s _so much better_ than them.

Which… alright, he manages to find things that no one else can find, supposedly from the Void. But that’s no reason to look down on everyone, metaphorically. Physically… well, if he’s _this_ short Olympus can see why.

But still. Personally, Olympus has interacted with Ki’Teer a grand total of once, because he wanted a flamethrower and he heard from some of the others he was selling a good one. He wound up having to get Eclipse to buy it for him, seeing as he only accepted an obscure currency he’d literally never heard of.

He’s still annoyed about that, honestly. So he pretends not to see or hear Ki’Teer, glances around to make sure he is, in fact, addressing him. None of the others are around. There’s a few of the Lotus’ operatives having a quiet conversation in the corner, some people with robotic heads seated cross-legged in a circle and playing cards. None of them, unfortunately, are close enough for Ki’Teer to be addressing them. And none of them are close enough to be the ones talking to him instead of Ki’Teer, although maybe the exceptionally condescending tone should have clued him in to that one.

 _“I’ll do for… what?”_ Olympus signs, taking no small amount of pleasure in the fact that Ki’Teer has to look up to him. Atlas is extremely tall even by frame standards, and frames—even the smallest ones are still tall compared to regular people.

Admittedly, Olympus is pretty sure he’d be shorter than Ki’Teer if he was, well, himself. But he’s uncomfortable enough with his true form in the privacy of his own ship.

“"Look. I have a job for you, because you're likely the least talkative Tenno out of all of them and I don't want to deal with needless chatter.” Ki’Teer steeples his fingers appraisingly. “There’s an ancient tomb on Mars. Made by a backwater, backwards civilization—long gone of course, thanks to the Grineer. They left relics behind, however, that have lately become quite fashionable. So you’re going to help me acquire some.”

_“Why.”_

Ki’Teer laughs, although it’s more than a little forced. “Straight to the point, I see. Good. I sincerely doubt there will be much in the way of fighting, but if there is—far better you than me. And, an extra pair of hands means we’ll be able to carry more relics.”

If Olympus were himself, he’d raise an eyebrow. As is, he signs, _“You’re coming.”_

“No offense, Tenno—but I sincerely doubt you can tell the difference between worthless and priceless when it comes to these artifacts. So yes, I am coming with you.”

_“I’m a glorified babysitter.”_

Ki’Teer pretends he didn’t catch that, instead clears his throat and continues, “I’ll send you the coordinates. Meet me there in two cycles time. I assure you, you _will_ be well compensated.”

Internally, Olympus sighs. The things he does for credits, really.

_“I’ll be there.”_


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, Olympus doesn’t bring his Atlas. He isn’t entirely sure what tomb-robbing entails, but considering it could turn out to be anything—Rhino is probably the safest bet. Minus the fact that, of course, most people have trouble wrapping their minds around the fact that one Tenno doesn’t necessarily equal one frame.

Honestly, until recent events involving some of the others, the Lotus, and Earth’s moon showing up out of literally nowhere, Olympus had trouble wrapping his mind around it himself. Now, well, knowing who he really is helps quite a bit. Knowing what he really is. He wonders, sometimes, if the Grineer and the Corpus would consider them such a threat if they knew the truth.

Ki’Teer probably doesn’t know the truth—although on the other hand, him being Tenno would explain a lot. It would explain why he can spend so much time pissing around in the Void without adverse side effects, if nothing else. And it would explain his reaction when Olympus shows up at the coordinates at the appointed time as a completely different frame. Which is to say, barely any reaction at all.

“You  _ are _ the Tenno I agreed to meet here, correct?” Baro asks with little more than a raised eyebrow.

_ “Olympus. Yes.” _

“Good. Let’s get going.”

Somehow, his tone’s even more clipped, more curt than usual—and that’s saying a lot. Ki’Teer is always curt with just about everyone, even the Tenno, unless you just happen to have reconstructed original Orokin frames and weapons. Primes, some of the others call them. Olympus hasn’t, because personally he’s got better things to do than run around near fissures.

Honestly, he’s had enough of the Void for a lifetime. Why anyone would  _ want _ to spend time there is beyond him. Some people are just… like that, apparently. And one of those people just hired him for what’s essentially babysitting duty. That, at least, he can do.

As he always does at the beginning of missions, he roars, solidifying his outer armor into iron skin. It’s important, even if they don’t see any combat—and even so, he still earns a particularly scathing glare from Ki’Teer.

“Keep it down, will you?” He hisses, hand going to a pistol at his hip. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be torn into bloody bits or worse by the Infestation.”

_ “Never said anything about the Infestation. Or stealth.”  _

“Just be quiet. We don’t need to attract unwanted attention. Or any, for that matter.”

Rhino’s impassive stare conveys his operator’s exasperation perfectly.  _ Quiet _ isn’t a word Olympus would use to describe any of his frames, although who he really is, is… a different matter. As it is, he internally sighs, drops into a hunter’s crouch, and exchanges his shotgun for a hammer. It’ll at least be less noisy.

Ki’Teer slips out the pistol—whatever it is, it looks more Orokin than some actual Orokin he remembers—and starts moving. He’s sneaky. Much more so than Olympus, maybe even on Ronin’s level if not Eclipse. Maybe.

Then again, to survive the Void, you  _ have _ to be sneaky—and Ki’Teer probably isn’t the self-styled _Void Trader_ for nothing.

* * *

 Somehow, they manage to make it to the actual ruins with minimal combat—minimal of course meaning Olympus only has to send a couple dozen Infested flying with somewhat muted hammer strokes.

Considering that there’s probably hundreds out in the open, and many more that would crawl out of the woodwork if they attracted attention, Olympus thinks he did fairly well on the stealth front. And anyway, now that they’re in the actual ruins there’s nothing here. Nothing here, that is, save a faint breeze stirring up restless sands.

Ki’Teer’s stopped in his tracks, so Olympus takes the opportunity to tap him on the shoulder. When he turns, a thinly veiled sneer on his face, Olympus signs,  _ “Who were these people?” _

“Backwater colony of backwards-thinking sky-worshippers. Their stories were worth as much as the sand around them: nothing. The Grineer took pity on their miserable existence years ago, returning this so-called civilization to the sand they so loved. Yet, for some elusive reason, their relics have become fashionable and therefore quite valuable. Rare antiquities, that’s why we’re here and nothing else.”

_ “You could be more respectful. Seeing as they’re all dead.” _

Ki’Teer’s glare intensifies. “I didn’t hire you for small talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it interesting that people in-game seem to recognize you as the same Tenno, even when you show up in a completely different Warframe. Case in point: Sands of Inaros. I don't actually have Atlas yet, but I started this quest with Rhino and finished it with Gara. (And hooo boy, I should have stuck with Rhino instead of trying to fight the tomb guardians with an low leveled Gara... at least I had the sense to bring my Staticor.)


	3. Chapter 3

Olympus has a bad feeling about this. Maybe it’s because of how disdainful Ki’Teer sounds when describing the ancient legends that almost certainly refer to one of his fellow Tenno. Maybe it’s that something about the tomb rubs him the wrong way, like they shouldn’t be here.

Or maybe, it’s the voice echoing through the tomb, of a woman telling her child a story. A story that—somehow—Olympus gets the feeling could be true.

A story that, oddly enough, Ki’Teer can hear too, and seems to put him much more on edge than Olympus.

“Tenno, what is this,” he asks, in a careful monotone. “How are you doing this?”

For once, his words don’t have a trace of his usual, characteristic arrogance. Olympus isn’t good at reading people, but—Ki’Teer almost sounds sad.

Olympus shrugs. Honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s even doing anything. The fact that Ki’Teer can hear the speaker suggests he’s not. Or, maybe, there’s more to Ki’Teer than he thought.

“That voice, I—Tenno, stop this.”

_ “Can’t stop what I didn’t start.” _

“But then he came,” the woman continues as they progress further into the tomb, Ki’Teer gripping his pistol perhaps harder than he needs to. “The fear-eater. The skykiller. He was called… Inaros!”

They enter a new cavern, a much larger one, and Olympus risks a glance at Ki’Teer. His expression is as unreadable as a frame’s. Which is… kind of impressive actually.

“There, a burial vessel!” Ki’Teer says a little too quickly, pointing. “It will contain precious relics.”

The vessel is a kind of jar, wrapped in cloth and set at the base of a statue that—well, it’s hard to tell, but it could be a frame. Just not one Olympus has seen, not in recent times anyway. Relics or not, credits or ducats, Olympus finds himself hesitating.

Ki’Teer seems to sense as much, patting the frame awkwardly on the shoulder. “There, there. You’re not defiling a tomb, you’re creating wealth.”

Olympus jerks away, signs,  _ “Don’t touch me.” _ For good measure, he catches Ki’Teer’s gaze and adds the most vulgar insult he knows. Something about a Sentient and a whole bunch of body parts that Sentients may or may not actually have.

Ki’Teer’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I was under the impression we had an agreement, Tenno.”

_ “We do. I just don’t have to like it. Or like you." _

His frame's hands take the vessel, cradling it close as the ground begins to shake beneath them. He’s expecting the ground to fall out beneath them, or a giant boulder to roll out of nowhere in an attempt to squash them. And yet, nothing happens. Nothing besides the ground shaking for all of ten seconds.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

“Return to your ship,” Ki’Teer says presently. “We must examine this vessel further.”

_ “You’re not coming on my ship.” _

“Of course not. If it contains a curse, better that it go off on your ship than on mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olympus really doesn't like Baro, does he? It probably would help if he accepted literally anything other than ducats.


	4. Chapter 4

“With all due respect, Ki’Teer, which is approximately the amount due the Infested, you are an irreverent, thieving piece of—”

_ “Zera,” _ Olympus signs,  _ “not the time.” _

His Cephalon lets out a very loud and dramatic sigh.

“Very well, Operator.”

“As I was saying,” Ki’Teer’s hologram continues, pointedly ignoring Zera, “from my limited analysis, I have determined that it appears to contain a kind of primitive blueprint, perhaps for a Warframe.”

“Anyone could see that, you—”

“Operator Olympus,” Ki’Teer says in a much more clipped tone, “control your Cephalon.”

_ “Zera, please.” _

“Fine, fine, fine. Zera knows when she’s not wanted. Zera will be performing engine diagnostics if she is needed.”

There’s silence for a time. Eventually, Ki’Teer picks up again. 

“As I was saying, there is also an inscription on it, which I happen to be able to read.”

Olympus nods for him to continue.

“It says, ‘Prove you are him. Destroy the ones who oppress.’ Destroy who? Does this smudged glyph represent some sort of enemy?”

Olympus squints at it, focusing his frame’s optics. In the right light, and if he’s being generous…

_ “It almost looks like a Corpus helmet.” _

“Well! That’s taken care of. I will be in the Void for the next few cycles. I expect you will have it dealt with when I return.”

The hologram flickers off. Olympus waits a moment, then releases transference.

In his true form, he’s shorter than Ki’Teer, and it’s in this form he leans back into the somatic link with a sigh.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he tells Zera. “I really don’t. Knowing him, I probably won’t even get any credits out of this.”

She hums speculatively. “The frame?”

“Didn’t know there was a frame involved until I was already down there.”

Somehow, he gets the impression that Zera’s frowning when she says, “Then Zera doesn’t know. Not for sure.”

As his true form, his bangs hang down to cover his eyes, leaving him staring out into a brown-black mess of hair obscuring most of the transference room. He sighs, pushes it up and out of the way and frowns.

“But,” she adds, “Zera did observe that Ki’Teer was… emotionally compromised. He gives off a small amount of Void energy—not on the level of you or any other Tenno—but any amount of Void energy is more than normal.”

“He  _ does _ spend a lot of time in the Void. He’s not Tenno?”

“No, Zera is quite certain of that. Any Void energy he gives off is residual, and perhaps affects why he is so much of a pretentious prick.”

He laughs. “You’re not wrong.”

“Zera is never wrong, Operator. And Zera would advise continuing on this path. She would like to discover what happened to Inaros.”

“You’re curious.”

“Zera could put it that way, yes.”

"Guess I am too." On that note, he’s lingered here, as himself, for too long already. He has a job to do. So, he reaches out with the somatic link, connecting with a different frame this time. Before he fully does so, he says, “Be nicer to Ki’Teer. We won’t learn anything if you piss him off too much.”

He transfers into his Frost just in time to hear Zera laugh.

“Very well, Operator. Zera will refrain from telling Ki’Teer exactly where he can shove his priceless relics until after your business with him is finished.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Cephalon Zera, the _true_ star of the show!
> 
> Not really. But she's fun to write, that's for sure. And hooo boy, if you thought _Olympus_ didn't like Baro...


	5. Chapter 5

It’s been a few cycles. Olympus doesn’t bother seeking Ki’Teer out in the Relay. Instead, he sends him a message:  _ “Done.” _

As he’d torn through the Corpus, freezing some and sending the rest flying with some well-placed hammer strokes, the vessel strapped to his back had, well. For lack of a better description, vibrated. He hadn’t had an opportunity to take it off and look at it until after extraction, but when he did…

The glyph had started glowing. Or, more accurately—part of it had started glowing. It was almost reminiscent of water filling up a cup, or a meter being filled to completion. With that in mind, he’d run another mission, and found the meter was nearly full.

It seemed to vibrate, and fill a little more, every time he killed a crewman. Well, a specific kind of crewman. The stronger ones with the more annoying guns. And when it stopped vibrating even after he killed three at once, he knew. He knew, even before he extracted and Zera began rambling excitedly that the glyph was full now.

Neither of them were quite sure what to do next, but he figured Ki’Teer probably did.

* * *

“You’re certain you’ve fulfilled this… primitive rite of passage?” Ki’Teer asks, steepling his fingers as he does so. 

He’s got the same pistol strapped to his hip, along with an elegant-looking sword of, surprise surprise, distinctly Orokin make. With that in mind, it’s probably designed more for aesthetic purposes than actual combat, but maybe he’s wrong. This one at least looks vaguely like a sword he’s seen Libra with from time to time.

In any case, anyone who can survive the Void has to be at least halfway decent at either combat or stealth. Stealth for sneaking past things, and combat for once you fuck up the stealth part. Which happens, always, inevitably. Unless you’re Eclipse, but Olympus damn well isn’t.

Olympus nods.  _ “What now?” _

“We return to the tomb, and see what we what we can do with this, presumably activated, vessel.”

_ “Right.” _

They walk in silence for a time, mostly because of the Infested still very much present in the area. Once they reach the tomb, though, Olympus taps Ki’Teer on the shoulder and signs,  _ “What do you have against them?” _

His usual look of disdain gives way to something different for a moment. “Excuse me?”

_ “You hate everyone. But you really hate these people. Why?” _

The thin line of Ki’Teer’s mouth thins further, and he says, “They believed in a god-king that, when the time came, left them to die—if he even existed at all.”

_ “If he was Tenno, he did exist. And we were all asleep for the past… I don’t even know. I don’t know a Tenno named that, but Inaros couldn’t have—” _

“They put their faith in the wrong thing, and it killed them. Now, be quiet, or I’ll find a less talkative Tenno to handle this.”

Privately, Olympus thinks that the only Tenno less talkative than him would be Ronin, although he’s admittedly gotten more talkative now that the second dream is over. Ronin, in any case, would probably make some very crude, very universal gestures if he approached her about this. 

Either way, he says nothing. Instead, he follows Ki’Teer back into the tomb, and does as he directs.

Which, this time, is placing the glowing vessel in front of a door and standing back. The door rises, revealing a raised dais with—wait for it—another one. This glyph depicts something Olympus doesn’t immediately recognize.

“Well? Pick it up!”

Olympus internally rolls his eyes, but does so. The ground rumbles, again—and the woman’s voice, the echo of the past, is back again.

“Little one, after this, you must sleep,” she whispers.

Ki’Teer visibly stiffens, mutters something inaudible under his breath. Unfortunately, whatever is going on here evidently doesn’t give a damn about how much he hates the people who used to live here. It keeps going.

Olympus listens, as he always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering: Baro has the Lato Prime, and the Skana Prime. He probably has Excal Prime locked up in a storage unit somewhere that will never see the light of day


	6. Chapter 6

The Golden Skymen can only refer to the Orokin. Which means… he’s almost sure that Inaros was Tenno. Olympus wonders then, if Inaros was the Tenno or the frame.

He didn’t know a Tenno called Inaros, although admittedly his memories from back then aren’t the clearest. And he doesn’t think he knew of a frame called Inaros, either.

He’s had quite a while to think of it, too. Between filling up the glyph on a second vessel, and waiting for Ki’Teer to return from the Void—again—he’s had a lot of time. Not just thinking on that, but… other things.

“Operator, do you really need Ki’Teer for this? Zera almost has enough data to reconstruct this… Inaros. Zera can show you a basic diagram of his appearance, if you would like.”

“Sure,” he says, leaning back against the nav console with a sigh. 

On the edge of his oculars, a bright yellow hologram flickers to life, just above the codex console. It’s definitely a Warframe.

Rather,  _ he’s _ definitely a Warframe. Inaros looks… thinner than Olympus expected. Lean, hungry. Thin and yet… even in a hologram glimmering in Zera’s colors, Inaros radiates power. There’s a quiet kind of strength here that appeals to Olympus, draws him in. And he—

To the Void with it. He’s finishing this, and he’s not waiting for Ki’Teer. He wants to recreate Inaros. If he can find Inaros’ original operator, maybe he can get Zera to synthesize a blueprint from his frame. If what he’s beginning to suspect happened, happened…

Maybe he can bring Inaros back.

“Zera,” he says, “send a message to Ki’Teer. Tell him that I’m going back to the tomb to finish this, whether he’s there or not.”

“Zera would like to remind you that Ki’Teer is not due back for another week.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to piss him off?”

“Of course Zera does. That’s why she already sent it.”

* * *

Ki’Teer must have exited the Void near Phobos, because somehow, he’s already waiting for Olympus at the tomb’s entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a crossbow already out, in addition to his arsenal of before. It’s not without reason—the last time they were here, they were all but swarmed by feral kavats.

Thanks to some quick thinking on his part, he managed to scan most of them—and according to a quick transmission from Zera, he then had enough genetic material to attempt to breed his own, hopefully less feral kavat. Olympus thinks he’d like a kavat. But regardless—bringing a full arsenal of weapons? Smart.

“I would advise applying new courtesy precepts to your Cephalon,” Ki’Teer says dryly. “Let’s go. And Void help me, if you pull any of your Tenno-soma-Void-resonance things again—”

Soma is a kind of assault rifle favored by quite a few Tenno. As for everything else, Olympus gathers he’s trying to blame the voice on him. He doesn’t bother dignifying that with a response, instead cutting Ki’Teer off by stepping in front of him and repeating,  _ “Let’s go.” _

He’s brought Rhino again this time. Partially because Rhino’s probably the most offensively oriented frame he pilots, and partially because he’s still damn good at protecting others. Like, for instance, certain Void Traders that he’s currently babysitting.

He doubts Zera would mind if Ki’Teer just disappeared. Most of the other Tenno would be pretty pissed, considering that Ki’Teer tends to get his hands on things that no one else can get. Primed mods, for instance—not that he’d know. The only thing he’s ever gotten through Ki’Teer is his flamethrower, and he’d gotten that secondhand since  _ someone _ only took ducats.

But regardless. It’s the same place, the same enemies—except, they aren’t.

The Infested are gone. Instead, the place is crawling with Grineer, and Olympus doesn’t think he imagines how pale Ki’Teer goes at the first sign of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zera must get along well with Ordis. I can imagine them hanging out in the Weave, trash talking Baro Ki'Teer and Darvo and who knows what else. I would say drinking coffee but I don't think Cephalons drink coffee... data processing? Sure. Maybe.


	7. Chapter 7

With a well-aimed hammer-stroke, the pillar falls, effectively barricading the entrance against the Grineer with a crash. Or at least, making it much harder for them to get in. Admittedly, it makes it much harder for them to get out, too, but that’s a problem for Future Olympus.

Current Olympus has to deal with getting the last pieces of Inaros and getting out, preferably in one piece and preferably without getting Ki’Teer killed. Half the Tenno he knows will kill him on the spot if he gets Ki’Teer killed. Actually, that’s being generous, the Stalker will want him dead less if he gets Ki’Teer killed.

And anyway, Olympus has a job to do, and he’s damn well going to do it. Even if things seem to be… changing, some. He’s not good at reading people, but it’s pretty damn obvious that Ki’Teer’s shaken. He’s leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, too winded to speak.

They’d… sort of, maybe, had to make a run for it. Across what felt like half of Mars. Olympus is suddenly very,  _ very _ glad that frames don’t get tired from things like running.

“You  _ fool, _ ” Ki’Teer wheezes. “What… what part of  _ avoiding detection  _ did you miss?”

_ “Whoops.” _

“We’ve... got no time to lose, now. They’ll be here soon, and then… we can’t let them get Inaros, you understand? We  _ can’t. _ ”

Through his Rhino’s eyes, Olympus looks at Ki’Teer strangely. His body language must be giving it away, because Ki’Teer hastily clears his throat, takes a deep gulp of air, and adds, “You  _ are _ aware of what the Corpus have been able to do through reverse-engineering a Warframe, correct? The Grineer may be bloodthirsty barbarians, but it’s not too far-fetched that they could cause a  _ lot _ of trouble with his… with this. So let’s go.”

Olympus decides not to tell Ki’Teer that he was the hold-up here, and instead follows him deeper into the tomb. Ki’Teer knows where to go, as he had before. Which is—actually, kind of weird, now that he thinks about it.

It isn’t long before they find the final vessel. Olympus picks it up, straps it to his back to keep it out of the way—and the ground begins to shake once more. This time, though, there’s no voice.

And this time, the shaking doesn’t stop. Except—it’s different, somehow. The shaking of before had been all around them, that of one of the quakes of old. The shaking of now… almost could be described as footsteps. Giant ones.  _ Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. _

They’re getting louder. There’s only one way out of this chamber, and only one way in—and Olympus realizes, with some horror, that this room and the way into it is built for something much,  _ much _ larger than even his Atlas.

_ “Get ready to fight,” _ Olympus signs, then realizes Ki’Teer’s staring at the only entrance and only exit, transfixed, horrified maybe—and frozen. He taps him on the shoulder, and signs it again.

“Right,” Ki’Teer agrees. His hand finds his pistol, indecisive. He draws his crossbow instead, fitting a bolt in and preparing to fire, aiming carefully.

It’s then that it turns the corner.

_ It _ , of course, being a statue. The statue, the one from the central chamber, the one that Olympus could have sworn had been watching him from the start. The one that looked like a frame. The one that now, he knows is a statue of... 

“Inaros,” Ki’Teer whispers.

Whatever it is, it’s probably about to wipe the floor with them. Experimentally, he reaches out with his mind. If it’s a frame, he’ll feel something there—even if it’s another Tenno. But instead, there’s nothing.

This isn’t Inaros. This is just a clever copy. An effigy, a statue, a—something. But there’s no frame here, no Tenno. No Tenno except him, no frame except the battered bits of Inaros and his Rhino. His Rhino, who through him, takes a step forward, and hefts his shotgun in an unspoken  _ get behind me. _

And yet, it’s not the statue that fires the first shot, as all it carries is a polearm. It’s not Olympus either. 

It’s Ki’Teer, and his crossbow bolt lands perfectly in the statue’s chest, in a show of marksmanship that nearly makes Olympus whistle appreciatively. Or it would have, if it hadn’t bounced off harmlessly, because it’s a statue. It’s made of solid rock. You can’t exactly puncture rock.

You can, however, hit it hard. And Olympus doesn’t wait for the statue to attack to strike back. He pulls the trigger, releases it, reloads in a smooth one-two three. As he does, he roars, solidifying his frame’s outer armor into iron skin as he does so, and hopefully improving his own damage at the very least.

To the vast majority of enemies he’s ever faced, a one-two clip of his shotgun to the face is more than enough to kill if not seriously injure. The statue staggers back, visibly dented—but that’s it.

Void, this thing’s strong. With a roar, he charges, swapping to his hammer as he does so—and whacks. It might have been effective, if he hadn’t missed the statue entirely and instead slammed helmet-first into solid rock.

His head spins. He can feel transference beginning to fail, can feel himself being drawn away from Rhino and back to the somatic link. Rhino, the frame that’s been with him the longest. Rhino, the frame he went into the first dream with, and the second. Rhino, the one frame he can always, effortlessly mesh with, better than any other frame he’s piloted.

The statue strikes, and his vision begins to flicker between Rhino’s optics and his own somatics. Between his ship and the somatic link and Mars and the remote cavern buried somewhere in the restless sands of a lost civilization.

If he loses his connection with Rhino now—his frame’s as good as dead. But if Rhino dies when he’s still in control, he’s as good as dead. He can feel Rhino’s strength waning as his does, swears he hears someone screaming for him to _cut the link, Cody,_ _cut the link!_ He can’t tell if it’s Zera on one side or Ki’Teer on the other—

But it’s definitely Ki’Teer that distracts the statue long enough for him to slip back in, to stagger to his feet and roar one last defiant time, iron skin meshing back over his own. And when he does—he swears he’s hallucinating.

He swears he’s hallucinating, because he has to be. Because Ki’Teer’s facing down the statue, alone. He’s put himself between the statue and his Rhino, and the statue—the statue isn’t attacking.

“You know who I am,” Ki’Teer murmurs. “Then you know what you’ve done, Inaros. Who you’ve failed.”

Olympus taps him on the shoulder, but he doesn’t turn. But this—this has to be said. This has to be said, and Ki’Teer has to hear it, even if he doesn’t listen.

For the first time, he whispers, “This isn’t Inaros.” Coming through Rhino, his voice sounds too small, too timid for the frame. 

Ki’Teer’s shoulders slump, and he murmurs, so quietly it’s almost inaudible, “I know.”

With that, the statue dissolves into sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka, the chapter where ~~all~~ most of the shiz hits the fan. Also, if you squint, you might just catch Olympus' name.


	8. Chapter 8

There’s so many questions unanswered now, and he doubts all of them are his. He won’t ask his, though. And Ki’Teer won’t either.

At least, that’s what Olympus thinks before a woman’s voice, the woman’s voice, the echo of the past, begins to echo through the central chamber again. And this time, it’s not telling a story.

“Quickly, my sweet dune, they’re coming!” She whispers. Hurried. Frantic. And Ki’Teer—he shakes his head, shakes it again, like by shaking it he can block this out.

“I tried so hard to forget,” Ki’Teer says, emotion threatening to overcome his words. He shakes his head once more. He’s gripping his crossbow so hard that his knuckles have turned white. “I…”

“Quickly, in here,” the woman continues. “Don’t make a sound, Baro. Here. Hold these grains in your hand, tight. Inaros will protect you.”

Ki’Teer sighs, resigned. “It wasn’t me I was worried about.”

Olympus stands there, confused, for all of three seconds before he remembers that Ki’Teer has another name, and it’s  _ Baro. _ His name’s  _ Baro _ Ki’Teer, dammit. The name of the child that the woman’s talking to. Then that means this woman is, or was, Ki’Teer’s—Baro’s—mother.

Maybe they aren’t so different after all. Olympus listens with growing horror as it’s made painfully clear what happened to her, and to—and to Baro Ki’Teer himself.

Inaros never came.

Inaros never came, and it’s with that piercing realization that both of them hear gunshots, shouting, that isn’t from the past. Not anymore.

The Grineer are here.

Olympus manages to block the first shot with his hammer, takes a second to the shoulder that, fortunately, glances off his iron skin harmlessly. He roars, really roars, and with it comes a resolve that he hopes Baro shares.

The crossbow bolt dispatching the leading Grineer lancer and the next ones clearing out the first wave makes that much quite clear. Olympus glances to him, finds he’s got a look on his face that he’s never seen on anyone before. Anyone, that is, save himself.

Internally, he frowns. Out loud—because there’s no point in hiding it, not anymore—he says, “Zera, scan the area. How many are there?”

“An entire regiment, Operator,” Zera says, appearing as a bright yellow diamond on the edge of his vision as she speaks—and, he suspects, Baro’s. “They are undoubtedly here for the same reason you are. Or… were, rather. You could take them, except…”

She trails off, but Olympus knows what she’s not saying. He could take them if he wasn’t already wounded, and  _ badly _ , from his fight with the statue. Or rather, if Rhino wasn’t already wounded. It’s taking all his energy and then some to keep him moving, keep him from sitting down and shutting down for good.

“We need to get out of here,” Baro says, right before another shot echoes through the chamber and he goes down. Olympus really shouldn’t—shit. Damn. Fuck.

“Zera, I need—”

“On it, Operator.”

Olympus dispatches the next group with a couple clips of his shotgun, and finds Zera’s displaying a map of nearby enemies. He’s got a few moments until the next ones make it around the bend, so he returns his attention to Baro.

He’s managed to pull himself into a sitting position, hand pressed to his shoulder, face white with pain. Olympus, admittedly, doesn’t have a lot of experience with wounds beyond those of frames, not recent anyway. But this doesn’t look like it’ll kill him. Not if they get out of here fast.

Silently, Olympus makes a decision. He kneels down, unties the urn, and sets it to the side.

“What are you…?”

“If I run out of here,” he says, “can you hold on?”

Baro winces. “Considering how fast some of you can go… not with one arm. And I can barely move this one.”

In the end, Olympus winds up breaking another of his own rules. He steps out of his Rhino while the frame’s still kneeling, helps Baro onto Rhino’s back, ties Baro’s bad arm on as tightly as he dares, shoves the urn into Rhino’s arms.

Before he steps back in, more Grineer make an appearance—and Olympus doesn’t use the frame this time. This time, he does—something. He’s not quite sure what. But whatever it is, the next thing he knows all the Grineer this time are dead, and he’s—he’s not. He’s still standing there.

He’s himself. Still in the transference suit he’s always been in, still at least with the hood up. But he’s… he’s not helpless, as himself.

Just hopelessly short. But that, he can work with. Maybe… maybe being himself isn’t so terrible.

“I believe I understand your choice in Warframes,” Baro observes dryly, and his heart  _ stops _ . 

Fuck, he’d—he’d forgotten that Baro was here. There’s worse people to accidentally reveal himself to, and—it’s not quite as bad as he’d thought. But. Still.

There’s also the fact that Baro hadn’t seemed at all surprised that this is what he is. That this is what the Tenno are.

“You knew?” Olympus asks—except no, he’s not Olympus. Olympus is the blend of Tenno and Warframe. Rhino, in this case, is the Warframe.

The Tenno is… him.

Baro sighs. “Can we  _ please _ have this conversation later, I’m losing feeling in my arm and I don’t think that’s just because of how tight you tied this.”

The Tenno nods, and in an instant, he’s Rhino again.

And Rhino  _ charges. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That escalated quickly.


	9. Chapter 9

“So you knew. About us.”

Baro nods stiffly. They’re both waiting for the foundry to finish crafting something to help patch him and Rhino both up, and in the meantime, Olympus managed to rig up a sling with an old syndana. With… some help from Zera. A lot of help from Zera, who’s being oddly quiet now, but not sassing Baro every five seconds, so that’s probably an improvement.

“What I didn’t know, I guessed.” With his free hand, he rubs his shoulder, and winces. “Your arrival in no less than three separate frames confirmed that theory. Although I didn’t expect that you were… well…”

“A kid?” He laughs. “You should see Vesper. They’re even younger than me.”

Baro looks at him strangely. Or, more strangely in any case. “Vesper? As in,  _ the _ Vesper that keeps causing Infestation scares in Strata Relay.”

“Yeah. Don’t think you’d recognize them. Admittedly, I might not recognize them, it’s… been a while. Haven’t met any of the others in person since before cryosleep.”

“Right.”

He’s expecting Baro to ask about that, to keep pressing. Instead, Baro holds his injured shoulder a bit closer and continues, softly, “You could have just left me. You didn’t. Why?”

Olympus shrugs. “Few reasons. Mostly that I don’t leave people to die. That’s why I use frames like…” He nods to Rhino, who’s kneeling next to the mod console.

“That’s it? Your cephalon has certainly made no secret of her dislike for me, and I was under the impression you felt much the same way.”

“I did.”

“Then why—”

“As I said: I don’t leave people behind.”

“And?”

Olympus sighs, and admits, “Every other Tenno I know would have killed me. Can’t say I share their fascination with the crap you bring to Relays, but I’d rather not piss off everyone I know.”

“Zera thinks that you grew on her Operator,” Zera pipes up, and he swears the lights brighten a little when she adds, “much like an Infested boil.”

“Zera—“ Olympus sighs. “Fine. Sure.”

Somehow, he doesn’t think he’s imagining Baro’s skeptical look, but he nods, says, “Whatever it was, thank you…”

Baro hesitates, as does Olympus. 

“Cody,” Olympus whispers. “It’s… it’s Cody.” The name feels strange, almost alien on his lips. And it’s his. It’s his name. It’s his name, and he hasn’t used it since—probably not since the Zariman.

Baro nods curtly. “Then, thank you. Cody.”

Olympus, Cody, whoever he is—he smiles faintly in response.

* * *

In the end, he doesn’t get any ducats. But he is able to reconstruct Inaros, and he doesn’t have to tell Zera to ping Baro when he does.

“You  _ are _ aware that I  _ just _ left Larunda Relay, correct?” Baro mutters. His hologram crosses its arms. 

“No, actually,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t keep track of your schedule. I just told Zera to notify you when Inaros was rebuilt, and… he’s complete.”

Complete, recolored a little, strength bolstered with a few mods—but unmistakably Inaros. He hasn’t transferred into him yet, which honestly took more self-control than he thought he had.

Currently, though, Cody’s himself. He’s… gotten more comfortable with himself, slowly, somewhat. He wouldn’t be talking to anyone he didn’t trust in person, though.

“Well,” Baro says presently, “I suppose I wouldn’t say no to some backup on what I've got planned. I’ll send you the coordinates, if you’re interested?”

Cody visibly grins. “Definitely. Should probably warn you that I haven’t done anything with Inaros yet.”

“So I’ll be dragging you out this time.”

“Never said that.”

“Maybe not, but—is your hand supposed to be glowing?”

He’d had his gloves off for once, one hand set against the wall, clearly in view of Baro. He glances at it, then down at his other. As it happens, his hands themselves aren’t glowing, but the silvery scarring along them is.

“Probably not,” he says with a shrug. “Tenno thing.” Even so, he grabs his gloves, tugs them back on.

Baro’s probably learned more about the Tenno since he hired him for a job they never actually completed than he had ever before, honestly. Like how every Tenno has Void scarring, but where it is can be—well, anywhere, and the color determines their energy color as well. His, for instance, is and always has been a light silvery-grey.

But since they’ve become—not friends, absolutely not, neither of them will  _ ever _ admit that—he’s learned quite a bit about Baro, and it goes both ways.

“Tenno thing or not, get here as soon as you can,” Baro says, his usual curt manner returning. “Come as Inaros, or don’t come at all.”

“Guess I’m not coming—kidding, kidding. I’ll be there in—Zera?”

“If Zera diverts all nonessential power to engines? A deci-cycle. Possibly less.”

Baro smiles thinly. “See you then, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr Sands of Inaros was Cody's War Within.
> 
> Okay, but honestly, they can't _all_ go through that quest. I'm already pushing it with what I've got planned for once I get to that one. Which... actually, we'll see which quest I cover next. There's quite a few quests, and there's quite a few Tenno I've still gotta introduce. The only one I'm actively working on at the moment is Chains of Harrow, so that might be next. Or it might not. We'll see. :>
> 
> Thank y'all so much for reading, and hey, if you liked this fic, why not check out the rest of the series? Cody'll be showing up again at some point, as will Baro, probably. If you ask either of them, they're not friends. They're _not_. (They are.)

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place between Second Dream and War Within, for those of you wondering. Of course, our boy is only circumstantially involved in both of those. Also, a multi-chapter fic? In _my_ Warframe series? It's more likely than you'd think! (Expect more in the future! I've gotta introduce all my dorks somehow!)


End file.
